


That Being Said

by LeyLines



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Accident, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, oblivious!ryan, pining!shane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 10:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16490639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeyLines/pseuds/LeyLines
Summary: Shane turned back to his screen and suppressed the urge to bury his face in his hands. Or smack it against the table.…he just told Ryan the one thing he promised himself he was never going to say, and the guy didn’t even hear him. Typical.___________________________Or, the Five Times Ryan Didn’t Hear Shane Say “I Love You,” and One Time He Finally Did (Plus The One Time Shane Wasn't Able To Say It)





	That Being Said

**I**

The first time was quite mundane, in Shane’s opinion. It was not uttered on the romantic walk home after an equally romantic dinner, as most cliché scenarios would put it. It was not said angrily— _desperately_ , like some sort of show-stopper—during a heated argument about some stupid shit, as Shane would have imagined it happening given the nature of his relationship with the very energetic, sometimes unreasonable, guy. It was not whispered during the dead of the night in some creepy, decrepit not-haunted location while Ryan was pretty much passed out from sheer exhaustion and the relentless assault of nerves, Shane knowing full well that the eerie silence of the house will carry the muted whisper quite well and he was going to have to get his hands on the footage in order to edit out that portion before Ryan accidentally heard it during editing.

No. The first time was quite mundane indeed. But Shane was never the flirty kind of jokester—sure he called Ryan _baby_ often enough, but goodness knows just how much he meant every single one of those—and this was, in fact, the first time he had uttered the words to Ryan without the slightest hint of a joke in his tone.

This was the first time he sounded like he truly meant it, his voice betraying him without preamble—sincere, breathless, and raw.

“I love you,” Shane breathed, his fingers clutching gratefully at the steaming mug of coffee that Ryan had cheerfully brought to him along with a sizeable assortment of snacks for consumption in the next few hours. Shane blinked, realizing what had just come out of his mouth. “Uhhh…”

Ryan ducked into his desk before Shane could say anything else—making Shane’s blood run cold—but he was back just as fast as he left. He was holding out a battered-looking burrito to Shane, his dark eyes twinkling as cheerfully as ever.

“I almost forgot I bought this on the way to work,” he said, putting the burrito down on Shane’s desk. He flashed Shane a big, self-satisfied grin. “I got you one too, and you’re welcome.”

Shane blinked again, realizing belatedly that his arm was still raised awkwardly in front of him, coffee sloshing slightly inside the mug. He swallowed as discreetly as he could and straightened up in his chair. He no longer felt like he was going to have a heart attack, but the nervous edge was still there.

“Thanks, man. Appreciate it,” he coughed, hoping he sounded normal or something. He couldn’t exactly hear himself over the roar of nerves crashing in his eardrums.

Ryan cocked his head to the side, probably at the lack of a snarky remark. “Everything alright there, big guy?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” Shane waved a hand at him, taking a long sip of coffee.

He almost winced again as the hot liquid flooded his taste buds—the coffee was made just the way he liked it, and if he wasn’t already so nervous about his blunder just a few moments ago, he was pretty sure he would have moaned at the taste against his will.

“You look constipated, dude,” Ryan quipped, watching him with a smirk.

He cast about for a snarky remark, a smart comment, a sarcastic answer, anything…but all his words have left him. All he could say was, “Maybe I am.”

Ryan’s face scrunched comically at him, the laughter plain in his eyes. “Okayyyy?”

Giving up, Shane turned back to his screen and suppressed the urge to bury his face in his hands. Or smack it against the table.

…he just told Ryan the one thing he promised himself he was never going to say, and the guy didn’t even hear him. Typical.

* * *

**II**

The second time was an accident, a careless slip of the tongue. Shane would argue that it was just force of habit, but the last time he did it was years ago—blaming it on habit now didn’t sound even remotely plausible.

Shane glanced at his watch impatiently—it was already almost ten in the morning.

Or, more accurately, it was _only_ ten in the morning. Not even a quarter of the work day had passed, and Shane was already feeling derailed as fuck. Who knew how much difference a cheeky _good morning_ and a steaming mug of coffee would make? The empty seat beside him felt like a black hole, and it pissed him off more than it should. If he wasn’t so anxious about Ryan’s current whereabouts, he would probably be worried at how much of a mood swing Ryan’s unexplained absence actually caused him. Surely this wasn’t normal…?

Shane grabbed his phone and stared unseeingly at the black screen, trying to calm down without resorting to doing breathing exercises because that was tantamount to acknowledging he was stressed the hell out, and he wasn’t ready to admit to himself yet just exactly how deep he was in this one-sided mess of his own making.

“Hey Shane,” Jen greeted cheerfully, her head popping up from behind the divider on Ryan’s desk. She glanced around the cluttered workspace, before turning back to Shane with a raised eyebrow. “Where’s Ryan?”

Shane was tempted to say something along the lines of him not signing up to be anyone’s babysitter, but he managed to keep his mouth shut, acutely aware that he was just having a rare—and highly uncharacteristic—temper flare-up. He suppressed a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair, using the moment to dispel the dark cloud of irritability hovering around him.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, shrugging at Jen’s resulting perplexed expression. He hit the lock button on his phone again, but it only told him what he already knew. No new messages.

Jen looked like she wanted to say something else, but she rocked back into her heels at the last moment and just shook her head minutely. “Well, he’s supposed to be here, so… Paperwork and all that.”

Shane nodded at her, and she seemed satisfied with that. She moved on to the next row of desks after throwing Shane one last curious glance.

“Guess that makes up my mind, then,” Shane mumbled to himself as he unlocked his phone.  He put it to his ear and waited with what felt like the last legs of his patience.

“H-hello,” Ryan’s voice crackled through after a dozen rings. “W-who is it…?”

Shane frowned—Ryan sounded like death. His voice sounded like the ghosts of the Sahara…or something. Scratchy and raspy and cracked as hell. “Ryan, it’s me. Where are you?”

Not that Shane thought he was anywhere other than his own apartment. Shane’s call probably woke him up—which explained why he wasn’t here, annoying Shane in person with his energetic cheerfulness.

“Jesus Christ, _uuurgh_ ,” Ryan groaned, his voice muffled by the sheets rustling. “I feel like _shiiiiit_.”

The next few minutes were filled with expletive-filled groans from Ryan, and gentle coaxing questions from Shane. It took some work, trying to figure out what was wrong with Ryan—the guy sounded delirious, and Shane was _this close_ to taking the day off himself and rushing to his friend’s apartment—but it was a testament to their well-oiled teamwork that Shane can glean meaning off of Ryan’s drawls and garbled sighs.

Ryan, it turned out, woke up this morning with a fever, a migraine, and extreme fatigue. It sure came out of nowhere but, in all honesty, Shane supposed he wasn’t entirely surprised. Ryan had a tendency to overwork himself. The burnout was going to happen at some point.

In the end, what convinced Shane to stay at the office was the fact that Ryan needed to submit some very important paperwork, and he was starting to mutter incoherently about how he had to get up and go to work. Technically, Shane couldn’t do anything about it either—forgery was illegal, and all that—but Ryan was out of it enough that he was placated by Shane’s insistent offers of taking care of his paperwork. He didn’t even bother asking Shane at least five times—as he was wont to do whenever Shane offered to do him a favor—if it was really okay. He just sighed in relief, his voice starting to trail off again into sleep now that the urgency was gone.

“Alright, Ryan,” Shane said, glancing at the wall clock. “Go get some rest. Drink lots of water, and try to eat when you can.”

A garbled sound was all the response he got—it could have been a grunt of assent, but it could have easily been a light snore as well. Shane rolled his eyes, smiling to himself.

“Well, I’m hanging up now, okay? I love you.”

“…”

Shane groaned and slapped his palm to his forehead, realizing he had just said the words out loud. He couldn’t take them back now…but maybe he can still turn it around? Maybe make it out as a joke…? He was just about to open his mouth to say something, _anything_ , when a loud racket from Ryan’s end made him pause.

“Uhhh…Ryan? Is everything okay?”

There was the sound of what sounded like the phone being fumbled, then Ryan’s voice came back on, slightly more awake this time. “S’okay… Dropped my phone, is all… D’you say something?”

Shane cocked an eyebrow. If it was anyone else, Shane wouldn’t believe for a second that they didn’t hear him, but this was _Ryan_. And the guy was ill, too. It was…possible. _Huh._

Shane thanked his lucky stars profusely, for letting his second slip suffer the same fate as the first one.

“Well, okay… Don’t forget to put your phone down on the table before you sleep,” he said, shaking his head to himself.

“Come over after work?” Ryan half-whimpered groggily, ignoring him. “I think I’m dying, Shane.”

“Don’t say that,” Shane chastised. “You’ll live. You just need rest.”

Ryan sounded like he was keening. “S-so…y-you won’t come over?”

“What? No! Of course I’ll come over,” Shane assured him immeidately. “I’ll bring food. Is there anything you want?”

“Okayyy,” was all Ryan sighed. And then there was a light snore.

“Ryan?”

“….hmm?”

Shane paused for a moment, then decided he didn’t have to ask what Ryan wanted. He needed chicken noodle soup, or something. Yep. “Nothing. Go get some sleep, buddy. I’ll be there before you know it.”

This seemed to cheer Ryan up—his contented tone said as much. “You’re the best, Shane.”

By the time Shane put his phone down in front of him, Jen was passing by his desk again, on the way back to the hallway. She shook her head at him, her lips pulled up in a knowing smile.

“Just tell him already,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Tell who what?” Shane asked innocently. He felt so much better now, all the irritability gone.

Jen rolled her eyes, and then she was gone. Shane spent the next couple of hours looking up comfort food and recipes online.

* * *

**III**

The third time was…different.

It was no longer an accident. It wasn’t a Freudian slip or anything. In fact, the third time was deliberate.

It was during one of _those_ days. There was no filming scheduled, and neither were they recording voice-overs. Ryan just wanted to prove something again—or he was trying to, anyway. His proofs were never actual proofs, as Shane pointed out cheerfully every time. Not that it ever deterred Ryan. The guy was as persistent as he was stubborn, for better or for worse.

So yeah, it was during one of those days in which Ryan drags Shane into the sound booth in order to listen to a clip that he would almost bet his sneakers on was a ghost whispering into the audio recorder.

“Just listen to it closely,” Ryan insisted for the fifth time in the span of a minute, his hands clutching at the headset intently, as if the action was going to improve the clarity of the supposed whisper. “It clearly said something there! There, _there_! Right there!”

Shane rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to pick at the small spot of dirt stuck under his nail. Ryan was truly a force to reckon with whenever he was obsessing over sound files like this, determined to make Shane admit that the wind was…well, _not_ the wind. If he so much as thought Shane wasn’t listening properly, he was going to hit that rewind button and play the damned thing all over again. It was its own brand of fun driving Ryan up the wall with frustration—just one of the many ways to annoy Ryan—but Shane could only listen to so many repetitions of the horrendous cacophony assaulting his eardrums before he started having a migraine.

“You gotta be shitting me if you don’t think _that’s_ compelling!” Ryan groaned exaggeratedly at Shane, his hands gesturing wildly in the small confines of the sound booth that they always used for Unsolved.  And without even waiting for Shane’s denial—they both knew Shane wasn’t going to give any form of feedback other than a denial—Ryan hit the button and played it again from the beginning.

Shane sighed as he took the headset off, his hands reaching up instinctively to massage the bony tips of his ears. He watched in resignation as Ryan continued to pore intently over a specific three-second section of the sound file—he could get away with taking the headset off, but he knew he was stuck in the booth until Ryan decided they were done here.

…not that he was protesting much but, you know, they got work to do. He was pretty sure BuzzFeed wasn’t actually paying them to bicker—not off-cam, anyway.

“Hmm…” Ryan exhaled, sounding contemplative. He even had his arms crossed across his chest in concentration.

Shane stared absentmindedly at the swell of Ryan’s arm, straining his shirt sleeves to the limit. He looked like he was a couple of gym sessions away from needing a wardrobe overhaul.

“You know,” Ryan started, jerking Shane out of his reverie. He looked up and realized Ryan was no longer rewinding the recording. He was staring intently at the small screen that showed the video.

“Do I know what?” Shane asked, but of course Ryan didn’t hear him—noise-canceling headset.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever said this before,” Ryan said seriously, “but your voice just sounds so good sometimes.”

Shane’s eyebrow jumped up, but Ryan wasn’t even looking at him—the guy was still watching the video, his head cocked slightly to the side. He looked so deep in thought, too.

“I mean, you always sound good,” he explained further, eyes still glued to the screen. “But there are times when you just sound… _different_. Like, uhhh…I dunno how to explain it, man. Like…caramel?”

“Caramel?” Shane echoed, a little confused. And maybe a little flustered. _Just a little_.

“Man, that sounded weird,” Ryan laughed at himself, not having heard Shane, and clearly not even looking for a reaction.

Shane would have theorized that Ryan was ignoring him on purpose, avoiding his gaze and all that, but it didn’t seem like it right now. He just looked genuinely absorbed, and…maybe amused? He had this uncharacteristic soft smile on his face, and Shane wasn’t sure how to interpret that.

“Sometimes you just sound lighter, softer, more gentle somehow… Almost musical,” Ryan trailed off, his head cocking to the other side as he stared attentively at the screen—the video was currently showing a part where Shane was talking to the camera while Ryan was doing his lockdown alone. Those parts usually get trimmed a lot for the final cut, but during actual filming, they had to babble on and on to the camera for the duration of the ten-minute-or-so lockdown.

“You sure know how to make a guy blush,” Shane said a bit louder, ready to brush it off as a joke the moment Ryan whipped around to glare at him. But the guy still didn’t turn around. It was almost like he had forgotten Shane was even there. “Ryan?”

Ryan smiled then at the screen, shaking his head. “You should totally read for an audio book, man. I’d buy those, and I’ll be a happy man. No more reading for me!”

Shane licked his lips, deciding to say the words before his nerves can catch up to him.

“I love you, Ryan.”

“…maybe I’ll get you to record horror stories? I will have a personal collection of horror audio books! Voiced by the nation’s greatest tragedy, Mr. Shane Madej!”

Shane pinched the bridge of his nose, fondness and exasperation warring in his head. _What the hell was I thinking?_

“You okay, big guy?” Ryan asked all of a sudden, almost startling Shane. The guy had finally turned around to look curiously at him, the headset now resting snugly around his neck. That pretty much signaled the end of their sound booth session. “You wanna sit down? I think we’re done here.”

Shane groaned theatrically, mostly to distract Ryan from scrutinizing him any further—Ryan wasn’t the most sensitive person when it comes to picking up on other people’s  emotions, but he was obsessively curious, and his guesses can be wildly accurate sometimes. Shane wasn’t the best at making Ryan let go once he’s locked on to him, but he was great with preemptive distractions. He gave Ryan the most pained expression he can manage. “ _Thank goodness!_ It’s about time!”

Ryan mock-punched his shoulder, oblivious to all the shit going on in Shane’s head. “Coffee?”

Shane grinned at him sweetly. “Whatever you want, Ryan.”

Ryan flashed him an exceedingly blinding smile, like the joyful smile of a man totally winning at life, making Shane feel kind of weak in the knees. And the thought that he can make Ryan smile like that made his heart hammer just a little bit harder in his chest.

_Fuck._

* * *

**IV**

The fourth time…wasn’t really the fourth.

It was the strangest thing ever. But at the same time, in all honesty, it felt like the most natural thing. The overlap between the two opposing sentiments was a _huuuuge_ gray area, and that was where Shane found himself willingly wading around in for the next few weeks.

The thing is…ever since Shane started speaking the words out loud, never mind the fact that he only ever said them where Ryan could never hear them, he had found a strange sense of relief. It felt like a release, almost—not the dirty, mind-in-the-gutter type. Just…a weight lifted of his shoulders. A breath of fresh air. He felt _lighter._ That he started feeling this way whenever he said the forbidden words out loud was a surprise, but it was a pleasant one. And so, Shane had taken to saying them whenever he felt the need to ease the longing that slowly built up in him.

He whispered the words to himself as readily as a thirsty man would reach for water, the phrase turning into a mantra, uttered whenever he felt the need for it—when he was feeling overwhelmed by the fondness he felt towards Ryan and his antics, when he woke up in the morning and the last remnants of a beautiful dream that starred Ryan in it made him feel like he was floating on cloud nine, when he watched Ryan’s back as the guy walked into the pantry to get them coffee for the long day ahead, when the nights dragged on and Shane felt cold and the mental image of Ryan that he had as he touched himself beckoned to him with those luscious lips and dark, dark eyes.

He must have spoken the phrase hundreds of times by now, frankly. But this was the fourth time he had said it in Ryan’s presence.

“So, I was wondering, uhhm,” Ryan said by way of greeting, following Shane to the deserted pantry. He looked antsy, high-strung—his eyes darted everywhere, but never landed on Shane.

Shane just hummed quietly, motioning for Ryan to go on.

“I was just thinking that, uhhh,” Ryan trailed off again, still fidgeting. Shane was just about to ask him if anything was wrong when a flash of determination glinted in his eyes, then he met Shane’s curious gaze. “So, you know how we usually have movie nights on Friday? Well, tomorrow…?”

The curiosity in Shane cracked, unease slipping through wordlessly. He couldn’t remember when or how habit had become tradition, but for some time now—maybe even over a year now, actually—they’ve always spent Fridays together. The place sometimes varied, the agenda was quite changeable as well, but the practice was pretty much set in stone. They almost never even talked about it these last couple of months—it just came to them naturally.

Now was the first time in a long time that one of them was bringing it up in a context other than figuring out whose place it was going to be at.

“You wanna cancel…?” Shane asked softly, looking away. There could only be one reason Ryan would cancel their Friday night, and it will most definitely have something to do with…well, _someone else_.

“What? _No_!” Ryan protested immediately, sounding scandalized. Shane looked back at him, and almost flinched at the half-shocked, half-affronted look on Ryan’s face. “No! Jesus Christ— _hell no_.”

“Alright, man, alright! Calm down,” Shane said, holding his hands up. “I just thought…uhh—Well, what about tomorrow, then?”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed at him with comical exaggeration. “Well, I was going to ask you if you could…spend the night, I guess.”

Shane’s jaw went slack, surprised at the turn of the conversation.

Ryan started getting restless again after hearing the pause. “I mean, if you wanted to. If you don’t, then that’s cool. I just thought I’d ask because we always stay up so late anyway and even though your place isn’t super far away, I just think that it’s—”

“Hey, man! Just calm down,” Shane interjected before Ryan could really start with the word vomit. “That’s cool. Really cool. No need to get worked up—I’d love to stay over. Makes sense, too.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Ryan breathed, his eyes all round. He still looked a bit tense, but the restlessness was gone. “Oh.”

He looked so relieved and yet so dumbfounded that Shane couldn’t help but ask. “Why do you look so nervous, man? What, did you think I was gonna get weirded out or something?”

Ryan made a face at him, but he could tell that he was close. “Shut up, Shane.”

Shane stifled a sigh, and turned around to grab his mug from the counter. “You worry about the weirdest things, man.”

“I wasn’t worried or anything,” Ryan fired back instinctively, then winced at how juvenile that sounded.

Shane decided to make coffee for Ryan too, since he was hogging the counter anyway. He snuck a glance over his shoulder—Ryan was still leaning against the doorjamb, waiting for God knows what.

“It’s not like I was going to turn you down,” Shane mumbled, more to himself, as he busied his hands with fixing another mug of coffee. “As if I could.” He smirked at the thought. “I love you too much to say no.”

“What are you mumbling over there?” Ryan asked warily.

Shane blinked. Wow— _great_ , just great. So Ryan didn’t hear him again. Okay, so he didn’t exactly say that with a booming voice, but…surely he wasn’t mumbling either? Maybe…? He was tempted to believe that all the ghosts he had taunted and disrespected were messing with him and exacting their revenge, but ghosts weren’t real. Shane let out a frustrated sigh.

Ryan’s pitch jumped up a notch as he started babbling again. “It’s really cool, man. If you don’t want to sleep over, it’s okay. Don’t feel obligated or—”

“Jeez, Ryan,” Shane grumbled as he turned around, holding two mugs of steaming coffee. “You sound like _you_ don’t want me to sleep over.”

“ _What_? No!” Ryan objected, running a hand through his hair roughly in frustration. “I’m just not sure whether you’d think it’s a stupid idea or not. Maybe you think it’s childish, I don’t know.”

As much as Shane wanted to assure him that he’d been daydreaming about staying over at Ryan’s place overnight for months now, he had an image to keep.

…also, payback for Ryan being deaf.

“I get it, man—you’re too scared to sleep alone after watching scary movies, so you want my company to make sure the monsters don’t get you. Not that it’s necessary, because monsters aren’t real.”

Ryan glowered at him, his cheeks glowing bright red. “Oh, you can go fuck yourself.”

Shane laughed at him all the way back to their desks.

* * *

**V**

The fifth time was difficult, to say the least.

_Difficult_ didn’t even begin to cover the extent of the unpleasantness under which Shane had told Ryan the words—words that no longer brought him the relief it did in the not-so-distant past. All the happy, lighthearted feelings that used to well up in him every time he said some variation of _I love you, Ryan_ were now gone. It had been replaced by a crushing wave of longing, a choking feeling of emptiness, an undercurrent of restless desperation. Every time, without fail.

He had given his heart an inch, and now it wanted the whole fucking mile.

He desperately wanted to be able to tell Ryan how he felt for him, how much he cared, how deeply he cherished him this last couple of years, how much he _wanted_ —but he couldn’t. The need tore his rational thought to shreds, and it didn’t take long before he was reduced into a drained and exhausted mess. It was a goddamned nightmare, and he would be lying if he said that it wasn’t bleeding into his personal and professional relationship with Ryan. It was getting harder and harder to deflect all the worried questions and gentle coaxing Ryan threw his way without straight up lying to him—or worse, pushing him away any more than Shane already had.

“I’m just here if you need anything, okay?” Ryan quietly said to him one day, appearing over his shoulder with two cups of coffee. The guy had dark circles under his eyes, and a kind smile on his lips. It was a very disconcerting look, and Shane felt guilty for not giving him answers to the questions Ryan knew not to ask.

So yeah, Shane felt like shit.

And as if he wasn't already feeling all sorts of fucked up, he just had to hear the one thing he had been dreading to hear—the worst thing that could possibly happen—ever since he realized he had a thing for his best friend.

…Ryan was asking Curly for dating advice.

“Oh, you need it for an article or something?” Curly asked matter-of-factly, shuffling papers and stapling bunches together.

Ryan’s face colored a fetching shade of red. “Not really, no…”

Curly whipped around to face him, intrigued and amused and excited all in one. “Oh my gosh—is it someone I know??”

Shane, on the other hand, felt like his stomach was trying to expel itself from his body. He turned around and walked away before he could hear anything else. He could use the copier later. Or tomorrow. Whatever. It didn’t matter anymore.

That was the last straw—and it hit his back with the force of a whole goddamned bale. He had really done it now, hadn’t he? He contented himself with being the _best friend_ , as cliché as that sounded. He figured he would be one of the first people to know if Ryan ever got interested in someone—and as the weeks turned into months and then into years of Ryan never developing any sort of romantic interest, Shane allowed himself to relax. Complacent, even. And when Unsolved started blowing up into the successful series that it was now, Shane even thought that maybe this was one more thing that made sure Ryan wasn’t going to be dating anyone any time soon.

Clearly, he was wrong—there was someone _now._ And while Shane was busy brooding over his feelings for his co-host and closing himself off for fear of getting found out, Ryan was seeking romantic advice from other people, always determined to chase the things he wanted.

Before overhearing that conversation in the copier room, Shane would have thought it was impossible to feel any shittier than he already did. But _shittier_ he did feel, and it came bursting out of him in the least expected and most inopportune of moments—Ryan was crowding his personal space, on the verge of a typical freak out, during one of the breaks while filming on location.

Normally, Shane directed his efforts towards making sure that Ryan did not completely lose his shit and make filming impossible. But tonight was the one night his brain had decided it had enough, letting the emotional turmoil bubble over uncontrollably—like a sucker punch, his mind was suddenly filled with thoughts of Ryan touching someone else, hugging someone else, crowding someone else… _kissing someone else_. And Shane couldn’t find it in him to even begin to calm himself down. All that registered in his brain was that Ryan was eventually going to be with someone else once he started dating again, and Shane was going to lose all the things that were never even his to begin with.

That thought sent Shane’s fist flying through the cold, damp air of the godforsaken place they were in, the brittle wood of the dilapidated house splintering under his knuckles.

“ _Shane_?” Ryan yelped, wide eyes trained on him, wearing the expression of a man who had seen a ghost. “Is-is everything o-okay?”

“Do I look like I’m okay…?” Shane hissed, his ears ringing. He tore his eyes away from Ryan before he could watch the man’s expression morph from typical fear into one of pure terror.

“I…Did I…Are you—” Ryan stammered, his voice choked with uncertainty and worry.

A strong breeze rattled the tree outside the window, and for once, it was Shane who almost jumped at the sound—Ryan acted like he didn’t even hear it. He just continued staring at Shane with a frightened expression, frozen where he stood.

“I’m…I’m okay, Ryan,” Shane said shakily after taking a deep breath and pulling his hand back. He stared blankly at the star-shaped bursts of bloodied skin on his knuckles, wondering somewhere at the back of his mind why it didn’t hurt.

“Like _hell_ you’re _okay_!” Ryan half-screeched at him, stomping closer without any warning. The sudden movement made Shane jump backwards on impulse, but his arm was locked into a vice-like grip before he could move away any further. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Shane bristled at the question—in fact, Ryan’s whole demeanor didn’t sit well with him. Where was the skittish guy that jumped at every small creak and gust of wind? Where was the guy who was incredibly charismatic but emotionally dense? Where was the Ryan who…who was exclusively Shane’s?

“Let me go, Ryan,” Shane whispered, meeting Ryan’s alarmed eyes with a steely gaze. “Everything’s fine.”

“ _Fine_?” Ryan asked indignantly, his volume jumping up a few notches. “Your hand is _bleeding_ , and in case you missed it, you just put your _fist_ through a fucking _wall_! That’s _not_ fine, Shane—that’s the _opposite_ of fine!”

“Jesus, Ryan…just drop it,” Shane sighed, feeling all the fight suddenly seep out of him. The spindly branches of the old tree battered against the window with loud, scratching noises—providing a grating background to the numbness slowly washing over Shane. It all felt…comically dramatic, and yet so anti-climactic. Just like that, he felt tired and _done._ Maybe it was the fact they were in the middle of filming. Maybe it was just an effect of having Ryan searing his skin where his hand gripped him tightly. Maybe it was just the adrenaline wearing out. Maybe it was the utter stupidity of all the shit that’s going on in his head. At any rate, he just felt so deflated. Angry, and upset, and so utterly deflated. “I really don’t wanna talk about this.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed, his fingers digging deeper into Shane’s arm. “Did I…do something?”

Shane’s stomach felt like it was doing somersaults. “Ryan, come on…”

“Are you—” Ryan tried again, his voice low and his eyes taking on a sad glimmer. “Are you mad at me, Shane…? Is that what this is?”

The hitch in Ryan’s breath made Shane want to pull his hair out, but he forgot that his arm was still trapped—he just ended up jerking slightly against Ryan’s hold. Ryan flinched, looking like Shane just kicked him, but he held on.

“Come on, man,” Ryan said, trying to sound brave. “Talk to me. If I did something, I—”

“…it’s because I love you,” Shane finally admitted, at the exact same moment that a thicker branch of the tree whacked against the window, cracking the glass into a dozen fragments.

“ _Holy shit!_ ” Ryan yelled, jumping away from the window. “Jesus _fucking_ Christ—we need to get outta here, _goddamnit_!”

Shane was being dragged out of the room before he could say anything else. They only stopped once they reached the landing where the crew had left all their bags and other equipment earlier during the day—their sleeping bags were propped up on the side, and nobody else but the two of them was there.

“Alright, man. Now we’re gonna talk,” Ryan huffed breathlessly, finally letting go of his arm.

Shane looked at him squarely, voice clipped. “What else is there to talk about?”

Ryan’s jaw went slack at the hard tone, but his eyes were determined. “Well, for starters, tell me again what you’ve started saying back there, before this goddamned house tried to kill us.”

“Are you _serious_ …?” Shane demanded through gritted teeth. “Are you really telling me you didn’t hear that, Ryan?”

Ryan’s defiant look cracked under Shane’s furious expression. His arms, which he had crossed over his chest, fell to his sides. “I… _uhh_ …look, I’m sorry—”

“Fantastic,” Shane said, turning around and throwing himself down on a dusty couch.

Ryan followed after him automatically. “What was it, Shane? What did you say?”

Shane buried his face in one hand and closed his eyes. “Nothing, Ryan.”

“ _Bullshit_!” Ryan protested indignantly. “You said _something_ , and I wanna know what it was!”

“It was…just the wind, Ryan.” Shane laughed bitterly to himself at the irony of it all. “It’s always just the wind.”

* * *

**+0**

The next time he almost said the words _I love you_ was on the drive home after their next shoot. It was early in the morning, during the interim between nighttime and daybreak, and everything was bathed in a muted blue light. Ryan was driving as usual, and Shane sat beside him as usual. But they weren't talking, which was _not_ usual.

There was a tension between them, a blanket of awkward silence bearing down on them, so palpable it was crackling in the air. The past week was a restless dance of avoiding each other and bitten-off invitations to lunch and aborted impulses to drive to each other's place for their movie nights. And it was all coming to head now, when the cameras were finally gone and they were stuck in a closed space with no prying eyes to observe and interfere.

Shane wanted to say so many things—he wanted to say that he cared about Ryan, that he was afraid of losing him if he ever knew just how much Shane wanted him, afraid he was going to lose him anyway when Ryan went off to find a lover to come home to. He wanted to say all the things he wanted to do for Ryan, for whatever reason Ryan would accept—cook breakfast, massage his feet as they watched their movie, tuck him in bed, buy him coffee every morning, say yes to adopting every animal that made puppy eyes at him… So many things. It was all a roundabout way of saying what he wanted to say the most— _I love you_.

But what came out instead was, “I’m sorry.”

Ryan turned to look at him, wide eyes swimming with concern and fondness and worry and comfort—

_They never saw it coming_.

The semi-trailer, barreling out of control, appeared before them without so much as a warning.

Shane decidedly did not believe in ghosts, but he didn't really have an opinion when it comes to the popular concept of seeing your life flash before your eyes moments before your death—he believed in logic and evidence and fact-checking, and he never had the opportunity to test the truth behind the saying. Until now.

Now he knew. It was bullshit, of course—there was nothing flashing before his eyes. There was no background music starting up in the distance, no highlights reel playing his life’s milestones, no montage of pictures painting a picture summarizing his thirty two years of existence.

…and neither did they get more time. There was no slow motion or time-stopping or anything. In fact, there was nothing—just the wide-eyed gaze of Ryan trained on him, and his own hand moving numbly, extending as if to reach for Ryan in one last bid to touch his hand before they both died in a very cliché vehicular accident.

His hand clamped around the steering wheel and jerked hard to the right—

…so maybe there was truth in the saying after all. The time-slowing skill of fate had finally kicked in, it seemed. Everything was in slow motion. There was still no life flashing before his eyes, montage or otherwise, but this was _something._ Like a last chance of sorts.

He wondered if Ryan would hear him now, if he said _I love you_. Probably not.

He would have laughed bitterly at that, if laughing was something he could do at the moment. But fate was a bitch, and time was not something that can be slowed down after all—science, baby. And so, time was up.

There was the sound of metal grating. Glass breaking. The feeling of gravity reversing. Heart thundering.

Shane heard Ryan say his name, and God knows he had Ryan's name on his lips as well, but it was too late.

He almost said the words _I love you,_ but it just wasn’t meant to be.

_—everything went black._

* * *

**+1**

It all felt surreal.

Everyone had finally stopped fussing over him. The doctors were done with their tests, the nurses were done with their checks, and the police were satisfied with his statement for the meantime. Their relatives and friends were hours away, and there was no real need anyway to come and see them. As shocking as it sounded, they walked away from the crash with mere scratches and some light bruising. Shane now had nothing else to do but go to Ryan's room and wait for him to wake up.

Shane didn’t know if he believed in miracles, but this sure was one.

All the medical personnel, both on the scene and in the hospital they were rushed to, were baffled by their extreme luck. Even he was baffled—he still half-expected himself to just start breaking apart quite literally, bones shattering and all that. The rental car was totaled after all, completely crushed on one side. He doubted it was salvageable. But it seemed that his knee-jerk reaction saved them just in the nick of time. They pulled out of the trajectory of the truck just enough to avoid certain death…and that thought still left his mind reeling.

It didn’t feel real—none of it did. The accident didn’t feel real, their miraculous survival didn’t feel real, his walk down the hallway didn’t feel real, the fact they almost died didn’t feel real.

He needed to see Ryan. He needed to be grounded in reality, and Ryan—

He walked faster, ignoring the aches all over that the nurses assured him were just basically a toll on his body from the extreme adrenaline rush.

They both got off with just minor bruising, some nicks from all the broken glass. Ryan was just a tad more affected since the truck nicked them on the left side, near the rear. Thank God they were wearing seatbelts. Shane promised himself he was going to do a very enthusiastic PSA video on wearing seatbelts someday.

Shane cracked the door open slightly, and peered inside before walking in—Ryan was asleep. He closed the door behind him as quietly as he could.

He tried not to worry about why Ryan was unconscious on a hospital bed while he was walking around on his own two legs—the doctors have assured him that they were both okay, that Ryan was asleep simply because that’s how his body tried to cope with the incident. His heart rate did skyrocket a few times—Shane can remember snippets from the ambulance, all dramatic and intense like in the movies—but that really should not have come as a surprise. Ryan was an excitable guy. The fans were pretty much spot on when they suggested that he wear a heart monitor during filming.

“Wake up, little guy,” he couldn’t help but whisper as he sat down on the chair he had propped up right beside Ryan’s bed. “Taco Bell is waiting for us.”

There was no response of course, and he looked around the room for something to do.

“Ahh, _damnit_ ,” he muttered to himself as he realized he couldn’t see much past the wet film in his eyes, blurring everything past recognition. He wiped the tears away before they fell down.

He spent the next few minutes in silence, trying to quell the emotions threatening to burst out of him. It would not do to cry—there wasn’t even _any_ reason to cry! Ryan was fine, he didn’t even have a concussion, he was just sleeping, and he was right in front of Shane. Everything was okay. There was no reason to cry…

Shane decided that the easiest way to calm himself down was to think back on all their crazy antics. It seemed fitting too, now that he knew there was no life-flashback-montage thingy waiting for them. The trip down memory lane would be up to them, and that’s what he was going to do right now. For science...or something.

“Hey Ryan, remember when your burrito went missing in the hotel when we filmed Bigfoot?” Shane started, speaking softly because it wasn’t like he intended to wake Ryan up. He just felt like talking out loud—there was something inherently therapeutic about being able to voice out some things sometimes—and didn’t necessarily want an audience for it. “I accidentally put it in my bag, so I ended up eating it when you talked to Teej about the establishing shots. Sorry, buddy.”

Shane almost wheezed at the memory—he ended up blaming Bigfoot, playfully too, when Ryan eventually discovered the disappearance and went on a hangry rant about how burritos were sacred and should be respected.

“To be fair, you steal my food all the time,” Shane added quietly, thinking about all the times Ryan decided he wanted a bite—or two, or _ten_ —out of Shane’s meals.

_Sharing is caring,_ the guy always said. He eventually just learned to live with this habit of Ryan by buying the larger portions of whatever he was getting. Ryan didn’t know _that,_ though.

Shane surveyed the room—now that his visibility was back—as he cast his thoughts about for more fun memories. The room was bare, as was the case with most hospital rooms, but it wasn’t depressing. Maybe it was because of the color scheme: a nice, soothing lavender with white accents. Or maybe it was the lack of a dozen beeping machines attached to the patient—Ryan only had one hooked up to him and, as far as Shane could tell, it was only a heart monitor. And then the IV drip, of course. Nothing that inspired horrific thoughts. Shane could almost pretend they were just doing a hospital skit for work.

“Hey, Ryan,” Shane mumbled almost absently, his eyes fixed on the heart monitor. “The EMTs thought you were going to have a heart attack back there. You gotta take care of your heart, man.”

Shane bit his lip at the thought—he already knew Ryan was prone to freak outs, but he didn’t realize how serious the possibility of a heart attack was until now. He was glad he made sure no one was going to think of pranking Ryan on set just to get a reaction out of him.

“You know, speaking of heart attacks…you almost gave me one,” Shane recalled, shaking his head slowly. “You almost fell down the balcony when we were shooting in Waverly, remember that? Man, I’m still so mad about that.” Shane paused for a second, realizing he had never voiced this particular thought out loud before. Not that anyone could hear him now, but saying it out loud still eased some of the annoyance, like a compromise of sorts. “I can’t believe you were really insisting it was the wind. Really, Ryan? The _wind_ …? You almost fell off the balcony, and you’re gonna insist it was just a strong breeze? _Ohhh boy_ , you have no clue how angry I was.”

Shane realized he had been clenching his fist, so he took a deep breath and tried to suppress the irritation. He couldn’t tell if Ryan was being truthful in his claim that it really was just a strong breeze that almost toppled him over, but that hardly mattered— _the_ _wind_ was Shane’s thing. If Shane didn’t know better, he’d say that it was all a part of Ryan’s clever ploy to make _him_ insist on supernatural bullshit instead. But no—he knew the real reason why Ryan insisted it was nothing to worry about and made sure the scene wasn’t in the final cut. He was afraid the show would be deemed too dangerous, and BuzzFeed would cancel Unsolved’s on-location shoots out of fear of liability.

“I need you to be more careful, Ryan,” Shane said, realizing that the fear of Ryan getting harmed in any way or degree was incredibly draining to him, mentally _and_ emotionally. “I just…I just need you to be okay, man.”

Suddenly, Shane wasn’t sure if he should be there when Ryan woke up. He wanted to, but…the raw desire to tell Ryan how much Shane felt for him was overwhelming. This accident only added to the urgency. If Ryan woke up now, he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to hold back—and the thought that he could ruin their friendship beyond repair was more than he could handle.

“I _hate_ this,” Shane grunted, feeling the fight-or-flight instinct gnaw at him. “I don’t know how to deal with this, Ryan… I can’t—”

He stared at Ryan’s fingers, trying to ignore the tubes taped to his hand, trying to not flinch at the assortment of cuts peppering Ryan’s arm, trying to will the tears away. He tried to make sense of what he was feeling, and why he felt like he was drowning.

“I love you, Ryan,” Shane breathed, his heart clenching at the intensity of his adoration.

“I _knew_ it,” a rough voice said, jerking Shane out of his misery. Strong fingers entwined with his own faster than he could blink, rooting him in place before he could even think about fleeing.

“ _Ryan_ ,” Shane gulped, looking warily at Ryan only to find the guy watching him with wide eyes and a delighted expression. “How long have you…?”

 A shit-eating grin slowly lit up Ryan’s features, and that was all the reassurance Shane needed to know that Ryan was truly okay and this whole hospital-bed-setup was completely unnecessary.

“Well, uhhm,” Ryan trailed, his mouth twisting into a self-satisfied smirk, his fingers locking with Shane’s firmly. “How do I say this…? Well, I wasn’t really asleep, I guess?”

Shane had no idea how to describe the noise his vocal chords just made, but whatever it was, it was completely undignified and embarrassing and he would very much like to run away _now_ please _._

“Oh jeez, calm down,” Ryan wheezed, his body crumpling the bed sheet as he shook with laughter. “You should see your face right now, oh my God!”

“Ryan, _what the hell_ …” Shane groaned, burying his face in his free hand.

“Hey now!” Ryan said placatingly, “I wasn’t really awake either. I mean, I was kinda feeling floaty—I can hear you talking, but it’s not like I just lay there suppressing my giggles and whatnot. I was kind of out of it, mostly.”

Shane dragged his hand through his hair, trying to unscramble his brains and come up with something remotely smart to say. “Ryan, look, I—”

“Nope,” Ryan interrupted quickly, fixing a serious stare at Shane. “You’ve said your piece, I think. And I…I have something to say too.”

Shane tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, but that was beyond him now. He just nodded weakly.

Ryan looked away then, his eyes somber. “Shane, that thing you said… I mean, I kind of suspected it, but I didn’t think you were actually gonna admit to it. And I have to say…I—I don’t know how our friendship is going to survive this—”

…the tears just started falling. Shane barely even registered them as they fell to the floor, narrowly avoiding Ryan’s IV hand.

“ _Oh shit_ ,” Ryan said, sitting up suddenly. “Shane? _Shane_ , wait—I’m sorry!”

Shane just turned to him numbly—he should tell him to lie back down, he should pull his hand away, he should probably do something about the goddamned crying, but he couldn’t make his body move.

“Shane, I was talking about the fucking burrito, _oh my God_ ,” Ryan practically yelled in his face. Before he knew it, Ryan had pulled his hand back and was cupping Shane’s face frantically with both hands. “Oh my _fucking_ God, I was just joking, Shane—hey. Please don’t cry. Hey, buddy… ”

“Wha—?” Shane breathed, but he was silenced by a pair of full lips pressed firmly on his quivering mouth.

Ryan sucked on his lower lip, bit it almost too hard, gave it an apologetic lick, and then pulled back, only to rest his forehead against Shane’s, warm breaths fanning against his cheeks.

“ _Ry_ —?”

“I’m sorry,” Ryan murmured, breathing hard. “Bad timing for a joke.”

Shane was torn between licking his lip, and pulling Ryan back to him. But before he could think about it, Ryan was already tugging him back, mouth moving against his with a soft, wet warmth. Ryan kissed him like he shared what Shane felt in his chest—sweet, and desperate, and hopelessly in love.

Ryan pulled back after what felt like an eternity, and Shane realized belatedly they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair.

“I love you too, you know,” Ryan said after a while, with a quivering voice and a deep flush coloring his skin, but his hand found its way back to Shane’s, and his grip was steady and firm. “For a while now, I think.”

Shane thought back to all the times he had agonized over Ryan not hearing him say the words—they all felt so distant now.

“I’ve tried to tell you so many times,” Shane said quietly, remembering the disbelief and the frustration and the hopelessness.

“Well…I guess my heart heard them or something?” Ryan smiled at him brightly, hair looking deliciously disheveled.

“ _You_ are something,” Shane smiled back, feeling better than he ever had in a while.

“You love me anyway,” Ryan grinned.

“I do.”

“And you owe me a burrito.”

“…I do.”

“Someday you’ll say that in front of a minister,” Ryan said, winking at him. Shane was sure his face turned red at that.

Shane was still somewhat scared. They still had so much ahead of them. They were both ambitious and career-oriented. Life can take them in so many different directions. But somehow, Shane knew that what they had—what they could be—was strong enough to weather all of these. Shane was still himself, and Ryan was still Ryan. Shane knew they were going to be okay.

He put a hand on Ryan’s cheek, his thumb brushing softly on his lips. “Maybe I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am supposed to be writing an update to my other fic, but this came out instead. Whooops!  
> K U D O S please! <3
> 
> I finally wrote a oneshot, hahahaha!
> 
> PS. Translations to other languages welcome! Podfic welcome! Just let me know so I can put a link here. :) I'm on Tumblr too, yay!


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